Dystopia Chapter 43: Inhospitable Neighbors

Cord and Diana headed out this morning, searching for the best way to approach Susan. Seeking a place, a time, a venue to meet her. A place where she and I could talk, where I could convince her I had nothing to do with the assault. Standing in a drizzle, I watched as they disappeared into the valley. Sighed. Turning, I scanned the area, eyes up.

The recent addition to our territory is responding well. Sure, an occasional squabble, but mostly working. Doing a 180, I took a moment to look up the road to the west; a large adobe-style, two-story structure was in view.

The occupants had made a clear, wide space, like a moat, about twenty-five to thirty feet across, surrounded by tumbleweeds and cacti. The building had occupants, but they seldom came out. At night, an occasional ray of light slipped out like a beacon, announcing its presence. How did they clear the area without being observed? Overnight? Sitting on a rise, the tenants could see visitors approaching. High ground controlled.

I wondered — if I approached them, would they want an alliance? An early morning thunderstorm now approached. Never a good idea to stand in an open field. Time to head for cover. As I rushed toward shelter, the downpour began. Lightning struck within a mile; the flash was bright. I blinked, stumbled awkwardly, thunder followed, and… what was that? Was that another thunderclap? A low rumble. A low-pitched rumble that moves you and what’s near.

I looked around; nothing was improving. News travels slowly, some positive, mostly how the ‘elite’ continue to control what resources exist and eventually disseminate them. We have a solar-powered shortwave radio that broadcasts for twenty minutes daily: the news… real or fake? One can never truly know, so I ignored it. We adjusted daily to this new normal. We adjusted to the rut we had dug.

Sure, I remember when they talked about self-driving cars, increasing the shelf life of foods, lab-grown meats, flying cars, growing replacement body parts, and how climate change was part of a cycle. Don’t worry. Governments proclaim every problem has a solution. Our innovative spirit will outmaneuver Mother Nature. In truth, not so much.

Reality, parts of the planet now uninhabitable, climate migration filling limited arable land, toxic populations, oceans rising oh so slowly, glaciers melting oh so quickly, coastal flooding forcing folks to higher ground, permafrost thawing releasing microorganisms, mosquitoes that carry diseases, death by heat, cold, disease, weather, starvation, us against nature. And each other. The Great Depression, with twenty-five percent unemployment. The Great Depression 2.0, exceeding fifty percent unemployment.

History has taught us nothing. Think about the Incas, Aztecs, Romans, Persians, Greeks, Chinese, Mayans, and Egyptians. Yeah, you remember them. You read about them in books, watched PBS videos, now stories, gone, books used for tinder. Destroyed by you and me, by our ‘innovative’ capacity, our covetousness. Short-sightedness took over, just as Robert Muggah said it would.

I needed to stay busy. I pulled the remaining team members together and suggested that we visit our neighbors.

We approached what appeared to be an unoccupied residence. The owners stripped down almost all nearby buildings and took whatever they could, leaving a cleared space that advertised the major structure.

I took the lead, white flag in hand, and waited for the owner or owners to appear. I guessed I had a 50/50 chance of survival. Slowly, two appeared, armed, using a red plastic megaphone, like a cheerleader might have used years ago, commanding us to stop… to look to our left.

“What?” I blinked, looking up when an IED exploded. My horse spooked, sending me to the ground, ears ringing, sprayed by small rocks, dazed. I lay, eyes closed, catching my breath. What the… I slowly regained my composure, dragged myself to my knees, stood, still holding the white flag.

“Don’t ya come any nearer, cuz you’re standing on an IED,” a female voice announced.

I waved weakly, rubbed my temple, grimaced, stretched my neck and shoulders, and focused.

“Get your horse and leave.”

“Wait, we got some supplies in the wagon, looking to trade,” I shouted. “Some stuff, clothing, medical supplies, odds and ends.”

“Get your horse, get back to the wagon. Unhitch the wagon, and you all leave. If ya touch the wagon, we’ll blow it sky high.”

“I was hoping we could trade. We need some wood, linen, —”

“Time’s running out.”

A smaller blast to my right spooked my mount, now running a short distance away. A single gunshot missed my boot by inches. “What the hell!”

Crap, I turned and started running. This is not working out as planned. Hightailing toward the wagon, I screamed. “Unhitch the horses quickly and go away. She’s gonna blow the wagon.”

Frank asked, “She for real, or bluffing?”

“She didn’t strike me as the bluffing type.”

They unhitched the wagon and moved away while I stayed behind to light the fuse.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked.

“Making a point, run.”

Scampering a safe distance away, I turned. Boom, there she blows into thousands of splinters. Smoke and dust rained down.

“What were you thinking?”

Retrieving my horse, I said, “No way I was leaving an empty wagon behind.”

Moving my horse to a gallop, I headed toward the building. Frank and Addison were close behind. I heard someone yell, “Stop.”

I watched the two occupants. Both standing on an upper deck, aiming their weapons. I wondered — would they really shoot? Halfway there, I pulled the reins to halt my advance. I unbuckled my holster and dropped it to the ground. Charged forward. Closing in. Heard a shot echo. Did they miss on purpose? Their bodies shifted, rifles aimed at me.

“Whoa,” I said, quickly dismounting, raising my hands, then placing them on my head.

A door on the first floor opened, and out walked a third occupant. A woman. All three appeared youthful and healthy.

Stepping out, she said, “Are you crazy?”

“What the hell, lady? Are you paranoid?”

“Drop to your knees.”

“Relax!”

“Relax? You’re the one blowing up a wagon and then charging up the road like a fool.”

“Good point. Can I stand up?”

“First, it’s May I, and no, you may not.”

From where the weapons were now aimed, and the way their eyes shifted, I realized Addison and Frank were approaching. Footsteps. In my peripheral vision, I knew they had arrived and were now taking a knee. My knees ached as small rocks pressed into my body. Gingerly, I adjusted.

“My name is —”

“Jesse, this is Frank, the chatterbox, and her name is Addison, the brains of the gang. I’m guessing the one standing behind the pile of debris is Joshua and... I’m not sure, anyway, they warned us you’d be coming. And offered us a substantial reward for your capture.”

“Well, ah —”

“Shut up… So, Ms. Addison, I’m thinking I should shoot him? Betcha he’s got a second weapon hidden in a back holster. I could claim self-defense. And still collect the reward. Here’s the plan. Ms. Addison and Mr. Jesse, you will come with me. Frank, gather the weapons, mount, and with your friends, leave the premises cuz I suspect the local militia will arrive soon. GO!”

“But…”

“Go!”

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